Methodologies
by paganpunk2
Summary: New Robin Tim is struggling to figure out how to interrogate criminals. Will seeing both Nightwing's and Batman's techniques in action during a mission give him any clarity on the matter? T for violence and language.


**Author's Note: This is the first part of what will probably be a three or four chapter story. It is set shortly after Tim has become Robin, and was inspired by the quote "I have with me two gods; Persuasion and Compulsion" from Themistocles. You can expect about a chapter a week, I think. Happy reading!**

* * *

Robin sighed and stepped back from the man who lay bound on the asphalt in front of him. Catching the guy hadn't been a problem, but getting him to talk was proving difficult. He couldn't blame his captive for clamming up – everyone knew that snitches didn't come to good ends in Gotham – but he needed the information that was being withheld.

If only what he was looking for had been available in the form of hard evidence. _That_ he could handle; piecing together a puzzle around missing parts was his best talent. Pressuring people into spilling their secrets was something he had zero experience with, though, and judging from the smirk on the perp's face it showed. He could always call Batman, but he hated to give up. Interrogation was a skill that he needed to master, and he couldn't do that if he always handed the questioning off to someone else.

If two dozen young women's freedom hadn't been on the line he would have taken another crack at it. Unfortunately the boat that was bearing them towards a life of slavery was slated to arrive in the early hours of the morning, and the clock was running down. The Port of Gotham was too busy of a place for them to check every ship that came in, and that meant that they needed a name if they were going to do anything. Sighing once more, Robin raised his hand to his mask and clicked his radio on. "…Batman?"

"Robin."

"I've got one of the dockworkers we were looking for, but…well, he's not saying much."

Silence stretched out, and he felt his cheeks flush. After five months of training he should have been able to handle prying a couple of words out of a random lowlife. He turned his head away from the leering man on the ground, but his mentor's next words made the shadows insufficient to hide his shame.

"Nightwing's coming to your position. I'm dealing with someone else."

"N-Nightwing?"

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

"No. I just…didn't know he was here." It was bad enough that Batman knew he hadn't been able to get a simple question answered. For Nightwing to find out about his failure too was mortifying. "Um…"

"He's on his way now." With that, the line went dead.

"…Shit." On any other night he would have been delighted to see the man he already thought of as an elder brother. Right now, though, he was just mortified. "Shut up," he barked at his captive, who had started to snicker.

"What're you gonna do if I don't? Try to make me tell you why I'm laughing?" The chortling became louder. "You couldn't even get that much out of me, could you? Better call Batman back and let him know you can't figure out why I'm making fun of you!"

An uncharacteristic rage swelled in his chest. Batman was disappointed in him, Nightwing was about to be, and on top of it all this asshole was teasing him. He was tempted to punch the guy silent, but before he could do something he would regret a new voice sounded.

"Hey, Rob. Who'd you nab?" Nightwing asked as he stepped up to Robin's elbow. "Ah, Mikey Merchant! What are you doing out of jail?"

Robin's jaw dropped. Fifteen minutes of hard work hadn't even netted him his suspect's name, but all Nightwing had needed to do was look at the guy. It was ridiculous, and he couldn't help but feel like even more of a fool.

Merchant's face twisted as if he wanted to sneer but couldn't quite manage it. "…I'm not talking," he spat.

"Mikey, Mikey, Mikey…"

"I'm _not_ talking, damn it!"

"Okay," Nightwing agreed, holding his hands up in a gesture of peace. "Okay. We won't talk about that. No problem. I don't want to get you in trouble any more than you want to be in trouble. Well...in _more_ trouble, I guess, seeing as how you're tied up." Merchant didn't respond, and Robin wondered how Nightwing was going to find anything out if he didn't force a discussion about tonight's shipment. "It's been a while since I saw you. How's the family?"

Merchant glared. "I don't want to talk about that, either."

"No?" Nightwing let a concerned frown appear. "You and the wife haven't been fighting again, have you? That's how we met," he turned to inform Robin. "Domestic violence call. Mikey's got a nice family. I just wish he'd find some way other than crime to support them," he added as he returned his attention to the henchman. "Then maybe we could stop meeting like this."

Merchant looked repentant for the first time since Robin had spotted him. "It's none of your business how I support my family," he said petulantly. "Where the hell do you get off telling him things like that about me, anyway?"

"First of all, Mikey, I only brought up your family because I'm sure they don't want you to go back to jail. Second, I told Robin about how we met because it's something he needs to know. He's out here for the same reason I am tonight, and he deserves your respect."

"Respect? The kid can't even get a simple answer out of somebody. Why should I respect that sort of incompetence?"

Robin repressed a flinch. Incompetent; that was what he'd been tonight, and now Nightwing had heard as much from the mouth of a petty criminal. He knew Dick would hide his disappointment and jolly him along in his usual good-natured way, but the damage was done. He'd made a mockery of the costume that the elder vigilante had made legendary, and he had no idea how he could ever make up for it.

He was so lost in his fugue of failure that he almost didn't hear Nightwing's next words. "Because I'm asking you to. And because in another three or four months he'll be as great at interrogation as he is at everything else. You're a smart guy, Mikey. Wouldn't you prefer to be on the _good_ side of someone trained by both Batman and me?"

Merchant stared back and forth between them for a long moment. "…Fuck, man," he muttered finally. "Whatever. I guess."

Nightwing smiled. "There we go! So now that that's settled, why don't you tell me what you were doing wrong to bring Robin down on you?"

Robin arched an eyebrow beneath his mask, but kept silent. Nightwing knew exactly why they'd been looking for this man; asking such a question could only be part of a ploy to get the information they needed. This was an opportunity to learn, and he leaned in to pay closer attention.

"I wasn't doing nothing. There's too many of you guys these days, you know; it's getting so a person can't walk down the street without being tackled."

"C'mon, Mikey," Nightwing cajoled. "Make this easy on me so we can all go home happy tonight, okay?"

"I can't! You know that! You said you didn't want to get me in trouble!"

"I _don't_ want to get you in trouble. But I don't want those girls to be in trouble, either, and right now they're in big trouble. You know what I'm talking about." He gave the prisoner a second to think. "Maybe if you help me to help them then I'll be able to help you, too. What do you think?"

A glimmer of hope shone in Merchant's eyes. "Like last time?"

"Right. Like last time."

"Well…" He glanced over his shoulder, then craned around to peer into the shadows beyond their legs. "So long as nobody can label me a talker. I can't afford that. I've got kids to feed."

"Nobody has to know other than the three of us."

"And you say I can trust this one?" Merchant asked, jerking his chin at Robin.

"Absolutely."

There was no uncertainty in Nightwing's voice as he spoke that single word, and Robin felt his face grow hot again. To his relief Merchant didn't comment on his reaction, but instead let out a long _hmm._ "…Okay. Let's deal."

Nightwing leaped on his opportunity. "What's the name of the boat?"

"What'll you give me for it?"

"Same as last time."

"I go free? Nobody knows I saw you?"

"Right."

Robin ached to object – he'd caught a human trafficker, and now Nightwing wanted to just let him go?! – but he held his tongue. The lives of the girls being brought in were more important than adding another name to his arrest record. Besides, he'd already made himself look like an idiot tonight. Fouling up a second interrogation wouldn't help his reputation any.

"…It's the _Dancing Queen_."

"How many guards on board?"

"Dunno. They hired all of those up north. All I know is the name of the boat and what time I'm supposed to be there. Two o'clock," Merchant added before he could be asked. "Slip 37B."

Nightwing smiled broadly. "Thanks, Mikey. Robin?"

He hadn't expected to be addressed, and jumped at the sound of his name. "Yeah?"

"He was your catch. Why don't you do the honors?"

After a moment of hesitation he bent down and sliced through the zip-ties holding Merchant's wrists and ankles together. He understood the benefit of building up relationships with helpful criminals, but that didn't make it any easier to watch them walk away when you knew they were guilty. His only consolation was Nightwing's history of deal-making with this particular perp. There was no reason to believe that the guy was going to stop breaking the law, and that meant that they were bound to meet again someday. Next time would be soon enough to send him to jail.

"Alright," Nightwing said as Merchant stood up. "Now you know you can trust Robin as much as you can trust me."

"Bullshit. How do I know what he would have done if you weren't standing here?"

"Well, there's a really easy way for you to never have to worry about either of us letting you go again, you know. Just quit getting involved in crime."

"Heh. Yeah, that _would_ solve that problem. But it's not likely to happen, now is it?"

"…No, Mikey, I don't think it is. And I'm sorry for that." A beat passed. "You'd better go. You've got a boat slip to get to. And so do we." His hand landed on Robin's shoulder. "Let's head out, Rob. Batman's waiting."

Robin reviewed everything he'd just witnessed as he followed the older vigilante across the rooftops of Gotham. Would Merchant have given up the information they needed if it had been anyone other than Nightwing trying to pry it out of him? Somehow he doubted it. The man had an inborn knack for getting people to open up to him that Tim lacked entirely. Maybe, he thought as they touched down in another nondescript alleyway, he could convince Dick to give him lessons in emotional intelligence. Even if it turned out that training couldn't fix him, at least he'd be able to say that he'd tried.

He certainly wouldn't be asking for that sort of education from Batman anytime soon. The black-clad figure stepped forward to meet them, but not even his impressive bulk could hide the bloodied person cowering behind him. While Nightwing had used persuasion to get the information he wanted Batman had been busy practicing compulsion. The differing results were plain to Robin's eyes, and he knew immediately which method he preferred.

The latter style seemed to have been effective despite his distaste for it, though. "The _Dancing Queen_," Batman informed them when they'd drawn together. "Two o'clock. Slip 37B."

"That jives with what we heard," Nightwing confirmed. He glanced towards the groaning body on the ground and gave a frown that matched how Robin felt about the poor bastard. "But I don't think we should wait until they get into port to hit them."

"There are three of us. Even their combined ground and ship crews shouldn't be sufficient to stop us."

"Sure, but they're less likely to be looking for an attack while they're still traveling. Plus, Robin hasn't seen the boat yet. Don't you think this would be a good opportunity to introduce him to it?"

Robin suspected that Nightwing was more concerned with protecting Mikey Merchant's good name as an underworld henchman than with showing him the Bat-yacht, but he kept his opinion to himself. Nevertheless, Batman seemed to sense that there was something other than strategy behind the suggestion to strike at sea. Silent judgment rolled off of him, but Nightwing withstood it more ably than Robin had managed earlier. After a moment the lips beneath the cowl twitched upward. "Fine. We'll show Robin the boat." That said, he marched out of view of the bound man and reached for his grapple.

As they tagged along behind him, Robin tried to contain his growing awe. To talk information out of a minion was one thing, but to convince Batman to change course on a whim was another thing altogether. He _had_ to know how that worked, so he nudged Nightwing. "How did you-?"

A secretive grin caused him to trail off. "Later, little brother," came a whisper. "Right now we've got baddies to nab."

Robin blushed for the third time that evening. 'Little brother' might not have been the safest thing for Nightwing to have called him while they were in costume, but he certainly wasn't going to complain. The promise of instruction in swaying Batman didn't hurt his feelings any either. Maybe with Dick's help, he thought as they sailed into the night, he would turn out to be a decent Robin yet...


End file.
